


Flavour I thru V

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Egg beater challenge story.





	Flavour I thru V

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Flavour 1: The Flavour of Lust by Ria

29-Oct-97  
Short Story Challenge

Okay - I'm ignoring what I should be doing because ... I can't help myself.  
"You come into my life/And then you go away/You make me feel a fool/For wanting you to stay/But I'm a busy guy/A lot of things to do/But there's a reason why/Some of them just seem to lose their flavor" -- Joe Jackson, "When You're Not Around," LAUGHTER & LUST album

* * *

The Flavour of Lust  
by Ria   
word count: 451

"You're the last person I'd envision in a kitchen, Mulder."

The all too familiar voice of his new partner, Alex Krycek, made Mulder spin around to face the door. "How in hell did you get in here, Krycek?" As Mulder turned, egg white went flying off the egg beater to land on the table, his t-shirt, his jeans.

Krycek's green eyes gleamed, and the familiar smirk that Mulder was beginning to hate appeared on his face. "Wasn't sure you'd be awake, given how exhausted you were when I put you to bed last night."

"I'm fine." Mulder turned back to the bowl of egg whites and began whirling the egg beater again, refusing to be distracted despite the provocation Krycek supplied.

"So, what's cooking?" Krycek's voice came from right behind Mulder, making the senior agent jump, this time dripping egg white onto his bare feet.

"You're not getting any." The response was automatic, an old habit. He'd first made this for Samantha, and ever since she'd.... His shoulders hunched, as they always did when he thought about his sister. "It's lemon meringue pie, if you must know. My grandmother's recipe."

He felt Krycek's chin rest briefly on his shoulder. "You'll never get stiff ... peaks with that thing."

Mulder bit the inside of his lower lip, hoping the pain would make the voice in his head shut up. It read innuendo into everything Krycek said. "I manage." He spun the egg beater vigorously, and the egg whites slowly stiffened.

"You're full of surprises, Mulder. But you really shouldn't let the spatters dry, or you'll never get them off."

Mulder froze as Krycek came around beside him, turned to face him, and slowly licked egg white off the front of Mulder's t-shirt. "Krycek ..."

Krycek looked at him, green eyes intensifying to emerald. "Yes?" His eyes pinioned Mulder as Krycek slowly dropped to his knees, his hands holding Mulder's hips as Krycek slowly brought his tongue closer and closer to the glob of egg white next to Mulder's fly.

Mulder closed his eyes, hoping this was just another fantasy, of which he'd had more than a few about Alex Krycek. But the grating slide of the lowering zipper assured him of its reality. There was silence, then his eyes flashed open at the sudden cold wetness on his cock.

Krycek had scooped up some of the semi-stiff egg whites and was carefully anointing him with it. Mulder groaned, dropped the egg beater, and curled his hands around Krycek's head. Within seconds Mulder was stiffer than the egg whites could ever be.

Alex Krycek knew forever after the taste of egg whites with a touch of sugar would be the flavour of lust.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><  
"Krycek chuckled softly. 'You're a real treat, Mulder, you know that? Your top barely has to do anything. Just sit back and watch while you torture yourself.'" - From "The Paradox Club"   
written by Cody Nelson (quoted with permission)

 

* * *

 

31-Oct-97  
Short Story Challenge

I didn't WANT to write this, but ... Alex demanded equal time and I'm really dreadful at saying "no" to those green eyes. And we WERE told we would write more than one story.  
"The Flavour of Darkness" (c) 1997 by Ria. MKRA only, for the short-short story contest. Usual disclaimers as to the characters, backstory, etc. And thanks go to my fellow MKRA writers for inspiration.

* * *

The Flavour of Darkness  
by Ria   
word count: 479

According to the tritium dots on his watch, the lights had gone out in the corridor 27 hours 41 minutes ago. He didn't bother counting from the moment he entered this huge chamber; he honestly didn't know when that was. He woke up sprawled across the top of the alien ship, his body again his own. 

At the time it felt like a victory of some sort. Right now he'd take the alien back inside, if only it would give him light, water, and food, in that order.

He paced along the walls. Two hundred paces along each wall, then a corner. He knew which wall the door was on, but made himself go past it. He'd already bloodied his hands trying to crack the glass, pry the door edge open, anything to get out of here.

The thirst was getting difficult to bear. He'd found a slow drip down the back wall, but it was more tantalizing than satisfying....

Rather like Mulder.

He turned his back to the wall and slowly slid down it, knees bent. Mulder. Intoxicating, infuriating FBI Agent Fox Mulder. A brief, bitter chuckle emerged to echo around the enormous silo.

Mulder knew he was here. He had to. And had done nothing. He wanted Alex to stop disrupting his life.

Alex leaned his head back against the cold concrete wall and closed his eyes, a reminiscent smile spreading across his face. At least he had his memories of Mulder. They didn't quite keep him warm, but they helped him forget the darkness.

The touch of Mulder's hand at that first handshake. The lower lip that begged to be touched and tasted. The gleam in Mulder's hazel eyes when aroused. The hair as dark, thick, and silky as the very best Russian Sable. Alex gave another chuckle, this time in private amusement.

On the back of his eyelids, Alex called up the last time he and Mulder had ...

Last time ... Alex refused to call it THE last time.

He jumped to his feet and began pacing out the room again. Damn he was hungry. What he wouldn't give for ... lemon meringue pie.

He turned and faced the wall, pressing full-length against it, trying to cool the heat generated by the thought of what he and Mulder had done with the meringue, the egg beater, and then with the pie itself. But instead of cooling him, the semi-smooth concrete reminded him of pressing against Mulder's sheets, Mulder deep inside him and trying to get deeper with every stroke.

Alex's hands caressed the wall, wishing desperately that it was Mulder's fevered skin beneath his hands. His hips pressed against the wall, the sound of denim against concrete rhythmically filling the darkness.

"Nice to see you know how to keep yourself amused." The rough-edged voice of his supervisor preceded the scent of the ever-present cigarettes.

THE END

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><  
Ria  
  
http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Academy/1023

 

* * *

 

02-Nov-97  
Short Story Challenge

I'm sorry. This series of Flavour stories keeps growing. As I finished this one, I knew there'd be a fourth. I didn't mean for this to happen. Can we say obsession? ;-)  
    
"The Flavour of Despair" (c) 1997 by Ria. MKRA only. Usual disclaimers as to the characters, backstory, etc. This is part three of the "Flavour" stories.

* * *

The Flavour of Despair  
by Ria   
word count: 497

Alex Krycek knew he was obsessed. Mulder had left him in that 'yobanyy' silo, but that hadn't ended the attraction he felt toward his former partner. He wanted Mulder, and knew on some level Mulder wanted him too. He just had to entice Mulder into admitting it.

He'd sent the first gift soon after he was released from the silo: a fleece-lined blindfold. He wished he could have been there when Mulder opened it. To make sure Mulder knew the source, he'd included a small card with a drawing of an egg-beater. He'd thought about a lemon, but figured the egg-beater worked on more levels.

Over the next year he'd sent fleece-lined leather wrist cuffs, followed by matching ankle cuffs, a 1-1/2" wide leather collar, chrome chain leash, a posture bar, an adjustable spreader bar, and finally a choker collar with a lock pendant engraved with a large "K" and a smaller "M".

But his return to Mulder hadn't gone as planned. Instead of being excited by the gifts, Mulder was furious. Or maybe because he was excited he was furious. Whatever the reason, Mulder never gave him a chance. And while there were times when violence was sexy, especially coming from Mulder, that hadn't been one of them.

He winced and cradled his right wrist with his left hand. It still ached from being handcuffed to Skinner's balcony railing. Behind him he heard the control room technicians muttering, "Zhopnik." Russian had so many different terms for bastard. This one also meant fag and ass-kisser. He grinned, knowing exactly what Mulder would say: Obviously they knew him well.

In the testing chamber below the control room, the door swung open and guards brought Mulder in. Mulder looked horrible, and while there was some satisfaction in knowing the damage Mulder had wreaked on him was now equalized, he knew it would only get worse.

His eyes half-closed as he watched them strip Mulder, roughly baring that soft white skin. Mulder shivered in the cold, apparently smart enough to let them do what they wanted.

Knowing what was coming, he locked his throat to prevent any sound escaping, his tightly curled fingernails drawing blood from his palms. Below him the guards followed the usual routine, wrapping their naked prisoner in wire mesh and affixing him to a table, pulling the mesh so tight it carved deep lines in Mulder's delicate skin.

When the viscous black fluid dripped onto Mulder's face, he turned away, unable to watch. If Mulder survived this, Mulder would hate him even more. And while he was sometimes a masochist, he wasn't willing to live with that.

He stalked over to the technicians' lab bench; they'd just mixed up a new batch. He looked over his shoulder at Mulder in the room below, Mulder's face invisible beneath the black, then smiled, never noticing the technicians suddenly backing away from him.

He dipped one finger into the solution, and tasted it. As expected: the flavour of despair.

                          THE END

NOTE: The Russian is thanks to the International Dictionary of Obscenities by Christina Kunitskaya-Peterson.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><  
Ria  
  
http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Academy/1023

 

* * *

 

24 Nov 1997

I didn't want to write this. Not now. I'm on deadline, and it's ... tedious hard work. Alex teased me into continuing the story. (As have others here; you know who you are.) :-) I wrote two parts, and I *think* that's all there are. 

=======================================================

"The Flavour of Death" story (c) 1997 by Ria. Part 4 of the Flavour series. MKRA only. Usual disclaimers as to the characters, backstory, copyright, sexuality, etc. And thanks go to my fellow writers for inspiration, as always.

* * *

The Flavour of Death  
by Ria   
Word Count: 492

It began when he tasted the black fluid that had been tested on Mulder in the gulag. It was as if he and Mulder were now on the same wavelength -- he couldn't be sure if the emotions he felt were his or Mulder's.

It continued after they escaped, and somehow he knew Mulder made it back home. It was the only thing that kept him going. His arm, or the memories of the arm, itched and sometimes pain ripped through it as if it were being cut off all over again.

The men who'd "saved" him smuggled him aboard a freighter bound for the West Coast, more to save their own lives than his. They wanted him gone.

During the days in the darkness of the hold he began to think he was losing his mind. No longer was he feeling Mulder's emotions; now he could hear some of Mulder's thoughts.

It had advantages. Mulder's schedule was the only way Alex had to register day from night, and at least that way he wasn't so alone.

He knew he should exercise, work on getting his balance back without his arm, but he couldn't figure out why. It was better that he just disappear. None of the people he worked for would appreciate seeing him alive, and neither would Mulder. He'd used up the money he'd stashed away, what little there was. Odd how betrayal paid so poorly when the cost was so high.

The sailor who'd brought him water during the voyage woke him up and told him they had docked. He didn't stay long enough to tell Alex what port they were in.

It was Seattle, and his exhaustion made him easy prey for the smugglers who spotted him on the pier. They left him for dead, but unfortunately his body refused to oblige.

He slowly made his way into the city, following the waterfront. No one would look at him; he was worse than invisible. They made a point of avoiding him by a wide margin.

He knew he couldn't last much longer, and with the thought came relief. He was so tired. Tired of his job, his life, everything.

At Pike Place Market he stopped. It was as good as any other place to die, and at least the view was nice. He took over one of the benches with a view of the Sound and slowly eased down on it. He ached all over. And he was so cold.

He closed his eyes and listened. Mulder was arguing with Skinner about something.

His eavesdropping was interrupted by a woman trying to tell him the location of the nearest shelter. He swore at her in Russian, and closed his eyes again.

Yes, not a bad way to go. Quiet. Peaceful. He'd heard cold was one of the easy deaths. The brisk wind off the Sound would ensure it didn't take long. "Good-bye, Fox Mulder. And ... thank you."

THE END

 

* * *

 

24 Nov 1997

Not to worry. I'd never leave my darling Alex like that. <g>  
"The Flavour of Hope" story (c) 1997 by Ria. Part 5 of the Flavour series. MKRA only. Usual disclaimers as to the characters, backstory, copyright, sexuality, etc. And thanks go to my fellow MKRA writers for inspiration.

* * *

The Flavour of Hope  
by Ria   
Word Count: 492

"I've tried and tried, but I just don't understand this. You betray me, killed those I care about, and just when I think you're out of my life forever, I start dreaming of you. No. Dreaming YOU."

Alex crept reluctantly back toward consciousness. The connection between him and Mulder seemed stronger than ever. It was as if Mulder was right there next to him.

"I don't want to want you. But my stomach drops each time I see someone from the back that I think is you. Each night when I open the door of my apartment I hope you're inside, waiting for me. I shower and imagine you're showering with me. I've gone through too damn much soap lately, and I swear there's a permanent imprint of the shower tiles on my back from leaning against the wall as I jerk off, imagining my cock sliding into your mouth."

The voice stopped, and Alex whimpered softly. The voice resumed.

"Damn it, Krycek. Have you any idea how hard it is to explain to Scully why I blush when she orders lemon meringue pie? And let's not even mention eggbeaters. I have to use a whisk now on my scrambled eggs."

Alex could swear he felt Mulder's skin on his. If this was hell, it wasn't so fearsome after all. But then the contact disappeared. Hell indeed.

There was a sigh. "C'mon, Krycek. You've got to eat something. Open up."

There was the warmth of metal against his lower lip, and automatically his mouth opened. The unexpected taste of chicken soup hit his tongue, and he swallowed.

"That's good. Now another one."

The process repeated, and Alex began to believe he might not be dead after all. Slowly he forced his eyes open.

Mulder was there. Mulder wearing red briefs and nothing else. Alex wondered what he had possibly done to earn heaven.

Mulder slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Focus. Stay with me."

Alex stared at Mulder silently as Mulder continued to feed him chicken soup. Was any of this real?

Eventually Mulder set the mug and spoon on the nightstand, and crawled into bed with Alex, pulling Alex's head onto his shoulder and wrapping his arms around Alex's waist. "You're going to be okay, Alex."

The sensual brush of stubble against Alex's forehead convinced him. "Mulder?"

Mulder's arms gripped him more tightly. "Yeah, Alex."

"What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, you idiot."

"Oh." Alex took a deep breath. The scent of Mulder nearly overwhelmed him. He'd thought he'd never smell that unique combination again. "Why?"

"I have no idea. Maybe because I want to kill you myself." There was a long hesitation, and Alex nearly fell asleep before he heard, more softly, "Or maybe I couldn't bear having all those presents from you and never using them."

Alex smiled, and gently slid back toward sleep, feeling safe for the first time since he was four years old. "Thanks."

THE END


End file.
